


One for the money, Two for the Show, Three to get ready......

by TheBigBadWolf



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Badass!Q, Character Death, Dry Humor, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Help, How Do I Tag, Humor, In fact he practically invented the game, M/M, Q can play too, Q is not a Damsel in Distress, but not really, just stick with me here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigBadWolf/pseuds/TheBigBadWolf
Summary: Q is most certainly not a damsel in distress. Bond doesn't always keep his cool. M just wants to go home and drink.
Relationships: Eve Moneypenny/004 (Scarlett Papava), James Bond/Q, R/0010 (John Wolfgramm)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	1. One For the Money

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm working from home and I technically wrote this while I was working which means I kinda got paid to write fanfiction! XD

The first to witness it were Tanner and R.

It was 4:00 a.m. and Tanner quietly slipped a £20 note onto R’s desk where she sat, hunched over her keyboard staring directly into the soul of the ‘F’ key. 

She pocketed the note as Tanner trudged away and watched discretely as the one and only James Bond led Q to the lift, a wide hand pressed into Q’s lower back. R took note of the gentle look in 007’s eyes and the blush just behind Q’s ears, she smiled and resolved to buy her self a fancy coffee and the freshest pastry £20 could buy on her way home. 

\---

The next witnesses were 004 and Moneypenny.

“Good Afternoon 004. I trust you have provided R with your kit and mission report?” Q strolled into the shooting range, rumpled jumper, tousled curls, and looking for all the world far too young to be standing in an MI6 shooting range. Scarlett, despite her many years of training instantly softened, it wasn’t her fault that the Quartermaster was helplessly adorable. Although she was sure she would be shot on site if she ever allowed that word to slip in front of Q.

“Good Afternoon Quartermaster,” Scarlett said with a beaming smile. “I even provided Eve with all receipts." She leaned over onto Q’s shoulder once he set his kit down on the table next to her, with her own gun unloaded and resting on the table she decided she would amuse herself. “I can give you some pointers if you’d like. Personal one-on-one training.” Scarlett use her honeypot technique and prayed she wouldn’t be shot. She crowded Q, her ruby red lips pressed to his ear and her breasts against his arm. 

Q smiled wickedly. He did so love 004. She was one of his best agents and a good friend, but he certainly wasn’t above messing with her when she insisted on doing the same to him.

“Scarlett,” Q dropped his voice letting a husky tone take over. “May I remind you that we are in the middle of a shooting range?” Two could play this game he thought. 

“And what if we weren’t dear Quartermaster.” 004 caught on instantly, smiling viciously. “What would become of us then?”

Q spun to face his agent, he smiled, leaned back against the table and grabbed 004 by her hips pulling her into him. She feigned giggled, for as much as a trained MI6 agent could giggle, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“004, I want you to see R before you leave today. You’ll will be testing the long range sighting system and new hair-trigger systems on the palm-encoded walthers. I want a fully detailed report and rating form completed for both, and I want them on my desk by Friday morning.” Q smiled, lifted a hand and brushed the hair away from Scarlett’s face. 

“Talk dirty to me Q.” 004 was quite proud of her Quartermaster, he could surely hold his own.

In that very moment 007 and Eve had walked into the range. In that very moment, Scarlett was sure someone would be shot. 

“004.” Bond didn’t growl but everyone stiffened at his tone. Everyone except for Q of course who just smiled looking for all the world innocent as could be with on hand on Scarlett’s hip and his other causally propping himself against the table.

“007.” Scarlett smiled and gently breezed her way from Q’s grasp and saddled up to Moneypenny.

“Eve, what have you done my dear? 007 is in a horrible mood today.” 004 nuzzled her self into Moneypenny’s arms and put on her best pout.

“Scarlett darling whatever are you talking about?” The girls laughed and watch James crowd Q as if checking for injury. 

Q with his arms now crossed looked wickedly at Bond, as if challenging him to say something.

“Well James, it’s nice to finally see you down here at the range. I’m still waiting on the review reports for my new tech, or have you decide to go and destroy those as well.” Q laughed and Bond and narrowed his eyes. Bond leaned in placing his hands on either side of Q, boxing him in against the table.

“Trust me Q, that won’t be what I break today.” Q eyes went saucer-wide and his devilish grin was gone. 

004 thought about grabbing her kit and letting the Quartermaster and his agent know that she and Moneypenny were still there but then again she didn’t want to leave Moneypenny’s arms. They were after all her favorite place to be. The two smiled to one another and quietly slipped out of the range.

“I do believe I’ve lost the bet my lovely Eve.” 004 commented as they strolled down the hallway, arms locked with Moneypenny's.

“Buy me a drink Scarlett?” Eve smiled.

“That’s all you want, just one drink? Come now Eve, I can do much more for you.” 004 winked and placed a small kiss where the blush on Moneypenny’s cheek was beginning the form.

\---

M was begrudgingly the fifth witness.

M sighed. It was all he could do now, his throat was raw from the yelling and he knew his words were falling on deaf ears. He’d be hearing about this from the higher ups for the rest of the year. 

In front of him sat none other than James Bond and the Quartermaster, cover in soot and dirt and blood. Though this should be normal for 007, it was quite unexpected to see the Quartermaster in such a state.

“Submit your reports immediately.” M waived his hand, dismissing them from his office. “And next time you feel like riling up a suicide bomber in the middle of London please do remember we are meant to be a covert division of government.”

Q coughed, the ash he inhaled hours ago scratching his throat. “It was an abandoned building, no harm no foul.” M’s head snapped up and Bond practically grabbed and carried Q from M’s office. 

M watched Moneypenny give 007 and Q a good dressing down as well, M grumbled at how they had the audacity to look ashamed when it came from her but wouldn't so much as blink when he was screaming at them til he was blue in the face. 

M also noticed how Bond’s hand seemed to be magnetized to Q. No matter how Q shifted or moved Bond would not let him go.

“ _Figures. They deserve each other._ ” M thought to himself. He’d have Moneypenny deliver them the necessary forms next week. Interoffice relationships certainly weren’t frowned upon but for the most dangerous double-oh agent and the Quartermaster to be in one, M could only imagine the impending havoc they would set upon MI6.

\---

And with this MI6 adjusted to they’re most infamous double-oh being a constant shadow to their most infamous Quartermaster. 

And while the initial betting pool had closed and the monies long distributed, there were certainly several other things to gamble on. After all Q branch was best at coming up with wild ideas and scenarios that they believed would only be a matter of time until played out before them.


	2. Two for the Show

“There is one guard 8 metre ahead and to the right.” Q was guiding Bond through a Serbian medical complex. 

003 had died months prior in Serbia. His mission involved the investigation into EMP-resistant microchips but when he had stumbled upon bio-weapon plans and disobeyed Q’s calls to leave it and return to his own mission, he was caught and quickly executed.

Ever since Q took over command of all high profile double-oh missions, the double-oh death rate was little to none. Everyone knew that disobeying Q’s orders out in the field could lead to almost certain death but that didn’t stop Q from blaming himself for the death of one of his agents.

And now 007 was in the very complex 003 had stood in months ago. Q was nervous but not even R or Moneypenny would ever be able to tell. And Q certainly would not break in any way for Bond to be able to tell. The double-oh agents were trained. Q was a natural.

The slight sound of a scuffle echoed through Q branch and the infrared display on the big screen showed a body dropping to the floor and Bond moving forward.

“You have 4 minutes and 32 seconds Bond. Suit up quickly, and place all vials in the provided case.” Q typed out key commands, having dismantled the rudimentary security system upon Bond’s arrival at the facility he was able to provide the agent with just enough time to enter the sealed lab, secure the bio-weapon, and escape. Q counted the seconds and monitored his agent’s movements closely.

It was only when Bond had narrowly escaped the facility that Q grabbed for his now cold cup of tea and took a sip. 007 was speeding through Serbia to a designated air strip and Q was already calculating the timing of the next steps. 

“Sir!” R shouted from her station and smacked the alarm on her desk. Q slammed his mug down and hunkered over his computer. The security system at the Serbian medical complex was too simple. Q knew it but Bond obtaining the vials was the focus of the mission. Q cursed under his breath.

“Lock everything down! NOW!” Q branch was under attack, everybody jettisoned to their stations and started closing the MI6 system off bit by bit. 

Q opened his earpiece, “Bond, Q branch is under cyber-attack. I’m closing communications. Get home.” Q then initiated his failsafe code, that he had once swore to M didn’t exist and brought down all servers. In his defense he had backup servers in his office and R was already halfway through the door. She would make contact with all deployed agents and be able to monitor things securely from Q’s own private and protected server.

Q was typing frantically, writing and rewriting code. Someone had piggybacked his own when he broke the Siberian medical facility’s security. He destroyed the malicious coding and was able secure the MI6 servers but the damage was already done. M would not be happy.

When Bond stepped foot into Q branch it looked to him more like the 9th ring of hell. All of Q’s minions were hunched over their keyboards typing away like enslaved robots, R was in Q’s office working on auto-pilot and Q was nowhere to be found.

“Suppose I will check in with M then.” Bond had said to no-one in particular. He straightened his suit and turn on his heel.

\---

“Goddammit Q!” M’s fist slammed onto his desk. They had been arguing for nearly an hour now. “What am I supposed to tell the Ministers? Tell me Quartermaster! How am I to explain this!” M was furious, his face red and his eyes bloodshot.

Bond simply strolled in against Moneypenny’s protests and dropped the case in his hand down onto M’s desk. M nearly choked.

“James Bond. If that case contains the vials you had been sent to retrieve, so help me by God, Queen, and Country I will strangle you here and now.” M’s tone had grown dark and worried. 

Bond for all his training didn’t move single muscle. He stood straight and looked onward. 

“Moneypenny call containment IMMEDIATELY” M screamed and all of MI6 heard it that day. “Bond your grounded for ten months. How dare you bring a bio-weapon into MI6. This should have been contained the moment you touched British soil.” Three men in hazmat suits came barreling through the door. M, Q, and Bond were to be contained to medical for testing and decontamination for the next 24 hours, although a “clerical error” may or may not have lead to M be cleared immediately and may or may not have also lead to additional clinical poking and prodding of a certain agent and Quartermaster.

\---

After what felt like the hundredth vial of blood drawn Q honest-to-god scowled at Bond.

“What the actual fuck James?” Q laid down on the awful excuse for a hospital bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The migraine was unreal and made him want to curl up and cry.

“M is too busy being mad at me to even bother yelling at you.” Bond to his credit said it so nonchalantly that Q couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter. “I know you Q.” Bond continued. “You’re kicking yourself enough over the attack.” Bond’s voice had gone considerably softer. 

“You’re not wrong.” Q admitted. “But that wasn’t what M was yelling about.” This had peaked Bond’s interest. “I had used my personal kill code on the MI6 servers. The one I had sworn up and down to the previous M did not exist anymore.” The two men broke out in laughter. Q was fiercely brilliant and Bond couldn't help but be proud. 

Later that night when Moneypenny had strolled in to give them the good news that they were now free to leave Medical and go home, she had been greeted with the sight of Q wrapped up in Bond’s arms as they both seemingly struggled to sleep on a single hospital bed together. She decided to leave sleeping dogs lay and snapped a pic just before turning heel and leaving.

“Moneypenny. If that picture leaves your phone in any capacity other than being deleted I will end you.” Q’s voice was hushed and no more gentle than a whisper. Moneypenny smiled and continued on her way. The picture in questions had already made it to a number of people and she couldn’t help but to laugh to herself.


	3. Three to Get Ready

Two months of 007 on suspension had Q branch practically vibrating with irritability. The man wreaked absolute havoc on the poor Q branch minions, especially if Q himself were not there to stop it. 

Bond’s new favorite thing to do was to break in the new hires. R would let it happen, she was a firm believer in trial-by-fire and if the new hires couldn’t handle a bit of double-oh intimidation then she believed they didn’t belong here.

Q on the other hand would have mercy on them and distract Bond long enough so that whoever it was that was cowering in fear of Bond could make a quick get away and hide until the agent would leave. Of course the first mistake every new hire would make is believing that their Quartermaster was not more intimidating than any double-oh agent. Q, with the evil streak he had in him, was always happy to dispel that misconception at first chance. 

Q had had a particularly rough go of things for the past three days. 004 was stuck in Russia, all flights in or out had been grounded due to a massive storm systems rolling through the greater part of Russia. To make matters worse she had been made and was on the run, hiding until Q was able to secure her extraction. 

At the same time 005 had been caught in a blast in Sudan. He had taken shrapnel straight to his left eye and had to be extracted to the States for immediate treatment. M had handed Q the paperwork for Stuart’s transfer to Greece. Q hated saying goodbye to his agents. Stuart was a good one, and Q knew he would excel in his position at Station G.

All the while, Bond had felt it necessary to never be more than six feet from Q at all times. He insisted on something being amiss but refused to explain to Q what he had meant whenever the Quartermaster would press him for more details. Q trusted Bond wholly, and he knew that if Bond could sense something amiss then it wasn’t just the onset paranoia due to being suspended from missions. Bond had insisted that Q could continue as was but on top of everything else he could barely keep the voice screaming at him in his head to remain on high alert, quiet.

After the resulting issue of Bond’s Serbia mission and the array of issues since, Q couldn’t help but feel the impending break down from all the stress. He’d be damned if he would ever let it show though. Bond was the only one that knew. He and Q had crossed that line nearly a year ago and Bond had grown a sixth sense for Q. He needed to figure out what was wrong and quickly. Q was uncomfortable within the branch, he could tell, and that did not bode well for continuing operations.

“James, please just go. I have to finish these reports then I will meet you at home. Go get take away or something.” Q waived his hand non-committedly. In the privacy of his own office he was able to relax, even though it was only just a little. It helped that Bond was a welcomed weight pressed up against his back, rubbing circles into his hip bones with his callused thumbs.

Bond hummed into Q’s ear. “If it won’t take you long at all then I'd prefer to wait. We can grab dinner together.”

“You’re only distracting me. The sooner said distractions leave the sooner I can be done.” Q huffed. He simply couldn’t find the energy to sound that inconvenienced. 

“I’ll drive and you can finish the reports in the car.” Bond let go and Q use every ounce of self-control to not complain about it. He began to pack up Q’s bag, pushing and pulling Q out of his way.

Bond was right, Q thought to himself. He could certainly finish the reports on his tablet and he really did not want to be at Six any longer, so he gave in and let himself be rag dolled about until everything had been packed up and they were ready to leave.

Q locked his office behind him and told R to go home on his way past. She just huffed at him and told him to have a lovely evening or morning or whatever time of day it was.

Q and Bond had made it all the way out to the carpark before Q had realized he had forgotten his tablet. 

“It’s your fault you know!” Q jabbed a finger into Bond’s abdomen. “If you hadn’t been so pushy.”

Bond pulled Q into himself and started trailing kisses down the Quartermaster’s neck ending all protests. Q let Bond have his moment.

“Come now Quartermaster, you have plenty computers at home. You can do it then.” Bond whispered into Q’s ear. Q barely suppressed the shiver that went down his spine.

“It’ll take me two minutes. Sit. Stay.” Q begrudgingly peeled himself away from Bond then immediately mentally kicked himself for doing so. It was later into fall and the weather had a slight chill. This was Q’s favorite time of the year, it always has been, but now more so than ever as it meant seeing Bond in all of his navy blue pea-coat glory. “Two minutes.”

“I’m timing you Quartermaster.” Bond watched Q sprint back to the lift then checked the time on his watch. 

2 minutes. 

Q had sprinted past R’s desk, sending her papers fluttering about. 

1 minute 2 seconds.

“Q, what’s wrong!” R shot up then wobbled a bit. She realized the hard way that sleep deprivation and little to no substantive food makes her wobbly.

“Forgot my tablet is all.” When Q popped back out of his office he saw R and clicked his tongue at her. “Go home.”

“Yes sir.” R would have laughed if she had the energy. 

46 seconds. Bond felt it. Something was wrong.

Q helped the poor girl right the papers on her desk and secure her computer. R grabbed her personal belongings and they decided to head out together. 

“Isn’t 007 waiting for you?” R asked.

“He can wait a moment longer.” Q dismissed her concern.

“£10 says he comes busting through here wondering what took you so long.” R slung her back pressed the button for the lift.

Q saw it before R did, the man standing the middle of the lift. A strange vest strapped about his mid-section. He grabbed R by the waist and together they tumbled to the side. 

The bomb went off. Everything went dark. Bond, for the first time in his life truly froze


	4. Now Go Cat Go!

Bond was the first to get there but was followed closely by MI6’s response and medical team. The lift shaft was obliterated and three floors has collapsed in around it. Q branch being on the bottom as it was technically the basement level. 007’s training kicked in. He took the back corridors and flights of steps on the opposite of the of building to get down into Q branch. 

Everything was covered was in dust and debris, the front of the room was nothing but rubble from floor to ceiling although it was really the floor above’s ceiling now.

Bond beelined for the rubble then stopped in his tracks when he heard the faint sound of coughing. He concentrated his efforts on the spot he heard the noise coming from and within minutes he had R uncovered. She was in bad shape but Bond’s initial assessment was the she’d be okay to move.

“R, where is Q? Was he with you?” Bond gently pulled her up from the rubble. She struggled and it was clear that she had several broken bones. Bond got her out and laid he down on one of the flatter nearby slabs of concrete. “Medical is coming, just hold on. Can you tell me where Q is.”

R sputtered and coughed, the concrete dust was raking across the inside of her lungs. “He had me by the waist and pulled me aside. He covered me … he should’ve been with me….” The confusion and panic began to set in, Q was with her she swore it. She was wrapped up against him fading in out of consciousness and reeling from the shock of the explosion. He was there moments ago.

Bond placed a hand on her shoulder when she tried to sit up. “Stay down R. I’ll look for him.”

R listened to the sound of concrete blocks and slab being thrown every which direction. Just before losing consciousness again she could feel the panic and bile rise in throat, what if Q was dead?

\---

It had been eight hours since the bomb had gone off. R was tended to by medical, she had several fractures and a few broken bones and a nasty concussion but she was otherwise doing well. The response team had cleared most of the rubble but there was no sign of Q in sight. 

Bond was ready to tear apart anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. There was an explosion, Q should’ve been with R, now Q was missing.

M and Moneypenny had arrived just behind the medical team. Moneypenny was reviewing the surveillance footage with M. Bond just stood and watched as pieces of rubble were being carted off.

“I don’t understand.” Moneypenny spoke quietly. “Q was on top of R, he should’ve been down there with her. There was only the bomber so this wasn’t a distract and grab.”

Bond saw it before any of the responders did and he leapt past them over and across the rubble. There on a twisted piece of rebar was a piece of torn fabric, soaked in blood.

Bond looked to M and M nodded. He demanded the area be clear of all personnel immediately. The responders were confused but obeyed. Moneypenny saw to it that the room was secured. All recordings and electronics off. Even their phones were dismantled and left to lay on a desk. All exits were secured and Moneypenny made sure that there was no one but the three of them.

Together M and Bond lifted the concrete slab that had been clearly smeared with blood by hand.

There was nothing.

Bond stared at the blood willing it to answer his question. “He left.” Was all that came from Bond.

“He was the target and he knew it. He manage to find a way out amidst the chaos.” M brushed the concrete dust from his trousers. 

At that moment Bond’s watch began to buzz. The watch had been a gift from Q who had made sure to alter the watch to fit his own and Bond’s needs. Bond pressed the hidden latch which caused the watch’s face plate spring open, a message ticked across a digital screen.

_Dead. Don’t look for me._

Bond huffed. Next time Q decides to berate him for being dramatic he knew he’d have the perfect retort. 

M and Moneypenny looked at him expectantly but Bond didn’t say a word. They all understood perfectly. 

As far as anyone would be concerned Q is dead. Only the three of them would know that wasn’t the case. M felt defeated. He was tired of these ridiculous agents and their flair for the dramatics. He was tired of rogue personnel making amuck of things. He could only hope that Q would quickly tidy up the situation and report back to work.

M pinched the bridge of his nose. MI6 just had their quarterly meeting regarding budget allowances and how he had a whole building to repair. 

“Moneypenny, prepare the paperwork and schedule a closed casket funeral. Make sure everyone attends.” Moneypenny nodded and return to where their phones lay in pieces, making quick work of putting M’s and her own phones back together. “007, don’t cause any problems. You’re still technically suspended. I’ll have you put in for two months bereavement.” M pointed at the agent then moved in close and dropped his voice. “I want you both back before then.” Then M and Moneypenny took their leave.

Bond pocketed the bloodied fabric. They had done this once before.

A fellow hacker had tracked Q down to MI6 then had sent assassin after assassin after Q. They faked the Quartermaster’s death then went on their own little hunting excursion. That’s when Q proved just how dangerous he could be. That was also when Bond knew he wouldn’t let anyone else lay a finger on Q. 

Bond thought back to that night, Q had just put a bullet between the hacker’s eyes with deft proficiency then turned, flashed Bond a killer smile and asked him out to dinner. Bond would never admit to ever being caught off guard but Q seemed to have knack for doing such a thing. Later that night in bed together Q had quietly asked Bond if he wanted to leave MI6. Together the were capable of anything and Q admitted to missing his devil-may-care lifestyle. Bond had only laughed at him and asked what they would do after world domination.

_“Guess it would be pretty boring wouldn’t it.” Q stroked circles into Bond’s forearm._

_“I was always convinced you had never sought world domination because it would have been too easy for you.” Bond smiled and began trailing kissed down Q’s body._

_“It would be.” Q admitted resolutely._

Bond smiled at the memory. He had to admit, seeing Q in the field was one of his many new favorite things. It was Bond’s job to be the high profile agent with a license to kill, he made his career in being dangerous. Q, however would gladly assume that role on an occasional basis just for the fun of it.

As Bond slipped out of MI6 he spared a moments thought for the lovely dinner they could’ve had that was so rudely interrupted by the bomber. He shrugged it off and considered it a fair trade-off for getting to see Q play the dangerous double-oh agent again. 


	5. You Can Burn My House

Bond stood in the MI6 garage surveying his options. He shifted the duffle bag full of weapons and supplies then decided on the spiriting away the Audi A8. In the back of his head he could hear M yelling at him about budgets and could practically see Q rolling his eyes at him. It would be a 9 hour drive up to Glen Coe and dammit if he wasn’t going to do in style. 

Bond threw the duffle into the boot and got into the car. If he took a moment to count his breaths no one would know. He knew Q was competent, was good at what he does. He knew Q could hold his own and even could've been a decent agent if that was his prerogative but Bond had been on the bad end of several bombs too many times and knew that even the most well trained agents, even him, were lucky if they survived. There was a lot of blood dabbled about the bits of concrete, he could only hope that there would be an MI6 car parked out in the middle of the nearly deserted Scottish highlands by the time he got there. 

\---

Bond was relieved to the see a Jeep outside the manor with MI6 plates. Q made it safely. He parked next to the vehicle and pulled the duffle from the boot only stopping to look at up at the manor’s façade. 

When he and Q had finally crossed the line of more than just agent and Quartermaster, Q had convinced him to rebuild his family’s estate. They had even used some leave as Q had done his own renovations once the structural ones had been completed. Bond wasn’t quite sure how but Q had managed to almost completely restore the estate manor, of course the interior now had a newer contemporary feel to it rather than it’s previous Scottish warmth but Bond found that he liked the new update instead. 

Much to his surprise, Q had even brought in a historical restoration crew to the clean up the chapel. Once those renovations had been completed Bond had visited the estate by himself, sitting in the chapel and just taking it all in. As Bond had made to leave he noticed a small headstone, newer looking, nestled into the family’s graveyard.

_Olivia “A mother within her own right”_

He knew then that he would betray Queen and Country if it meant protecting his Quartermaster.

Bond shook the memories and thoughts from his head, checked that his gun was loaded and ready then trudged up to and through the doors.

\---

There was someone rustling about and cursing, and then the crash and shatter of ceramics. Bond froze in the middle of the manor’s entryway and listened.

“James don’t just stand there, come help me!” Q’s voice was rough, Bond could tell he was in pain.

Bond strolled his way down the corridor and into the kitchen as if he had all the leisure in the world to do so. 

“I take it all securities are up and running then?” Bond smiled. His boffin was tousled and looked like hell, still covered in concrete dust and dried blood, but he didn’t seem to care. Q had clearly been making several labored attempts of putting together a pot of tea. Clearly hampered by the crudely patched up left shoulder and arm and the even more crudely bandaged right thigh. 

“Nice of you to help with that” Q bit at him.

“Enough with the tea. You need bathed, bandaged, and medicated.” Bond took the hot kettle from Q’s hands and put it down on the counter, making sure the range was turned off as well. “So sorry for my tardiness. Next time a bomb goes off in the middle of Six and you may be beneath the rubble, I’ll remember to turn heel and come here as fast as possible.”

Bond wrapped an arm around Q’s waist and helped him shift his weight. He’d carry Q up the steps if he didn’t think it would result in a shiner to one of his eyes.

“Sorry.” Q muttered. “My security protocols should’ve picked him up. He shouldn’t have been able to get as far as he did. I made sure to write and re-write the codes after the breach. I should’ve been better prepared.”

“And I shouldn’t have let you go back for that damn tablet Q.” Bond buried his face in Q’s dusty hair. “Come on, you smell like shit.” He hoisted Q up and dragged him up two flights of steps to the master bath. 

\---

“Hold still dammit!” Bond squeezed Q’s hip and contemplated just knocking the man out altogether. 

“It hurts!” Q writhed and winced. Stitches were worse than the pain of the actual injury. “If this is your retribution I’ll smother you in your sleep James!” Q ducked away as Bond had threaded the needle through another section of his shoulder, Bond cursed as the needle had nearly made its way into Q’s neck with the sudden movement.

“Not if I smother you now you won’t.” Bond muttered and moved to wrap his legs around Q’s waist and arm around his chest, pining the man not only in his seated position on the tiled floor but also to Bond’s chest. Q settled down and let Bond finish. 

The gash on his shoulder was deep but hadn’t resulted in too much damage and the blossomed bruising down his arm would take forever to go away. His thigh had narrowly missed being impaled by a chunk of rebar but had taken a pretty nasty cut as well but Bond had exhausted their supply of wound glue on that and much to Q’s dismay, they were left with nothing but a needle and medical thread to finish off patching up with.

“There should be a sling in the linen closest with the rest of the med kit. You’ll have to wear it for a while Q.” Bond voice was low and quiet in Q’s ear and all he could was lean his head back onto Bond’s shoulder. When Bond had snipped the excess thread away and placed everything aside he squeezed tighter into the embrace and peppered kisses down Q’s throat, careful keep from hitting any cuts, scrapes, or bruises. 

They stayed like that for what felt like too long and not long enough all at once. Q groaned, he was sore and tired and wanted off the hard tile floor. Bond just chuckled, unfolded himself then lifted Q up off the floor and helped him to the bedroom.

“Sleep Q. I will handle the checks and setups.” Bond left a kiss square on Q’s forehead when he collapsed into the bed, already fading into sleep partly out of exhaustion and partly due to the painkillers.

When Bond closed the door and leaned against it and stared down at his hands. _“I shouldn’t have let you go back for that damn tablet .”_ Q was capable, Bond had to admit, but also quite breakable. Bond would make sure whoever was responsible for this would hurt and hurt for a long time until they could only wish for death.


	6. Steal My Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me guys!! Sorry for the super long lapse without an update. It's been a really rough year.

There was a small arsenal laid out along the classic oak table, which Q remembered was Eve’s choosing when he had a desk full of furniture catalogs that needed sorted through. The undertaking of renovating the mansion was exhausting but Eve had been all too happy to help Q with design choices. 

He stood staring at the array of firearms and thought how he had hoped to see place settings, friends, and family surrounding the table rather than several lockers worth of MI6 weaponry. He noted how everything was clean and arranged neatly, Bond mostly didn’t sleep, instead staying up breaking down, cleaning, and reassembling each firearm. Q would be angrier if he hadn’t felt so bogged down by the pain killers. He left the weaponry display and wander into the kitchen. 

“You’re no use to me if you’re sleep deprived and moody.” Q muttered at the back turned to him, leaning over the counter tinkering with something. He decided the pursuit of tea and food was more urgent than determining what it was Bond was tinkering with. 

“And you Q, are no use to anyone dead.” Bond huffed. He threw his tools down and whatever he was working on clattered down onto the countertop. Bond stared as the shaggy boffin moved about the kitchen in a calculated enough manner that he wouldn’t have to turn around and face the agent. “Q.” Bond said flatly. 

Q froze halfway through putting the carton of milk back into the fridge. James Bond always knew how to get through to him. 

“I am fine....” Q started, but he didn’t have the conviction to finish. Bond stayed staring at the back of Q’s head, willing the silly little man to understand. “I more or less had it under control. R is mostly unharmed and I walked away with minor injuries. I am fine James. I have it under control.” Q repeated for himself moreso than for Bond. 

“M is pissed.” Bond finally spoke up. 

“He will have to remain so. It wasn’t an attack on Six it was an attack on me and I intend to rectify it. No doubt my own brother would not allow me to do so behind the walls of MI6 much less M. If I am dead and off the record then I am free to act of my own accord.” Q stated matter-of-factly, having not once looked away from the kettle that seemed as though it would never boil. 

Bond sighed, sometimes he is honestly taken back at how such a brilliant boffin can be so damn thickheaded. 

“M and I dug through the rubble; Eve paced.” Bond watch Q’s shoulders fall. “They thought, at the minimum, I would know the plan if there was one. Last time we did this, both M and Eve were brought into the fold. But this time.....” Bond paused. “This time even I.....” Bond squared himself. “... was panicked.” 

“I’m sorry.” Q all but whispered. He turned to face the agent. “I had moments, trapped beneath the concrete, I had only moments to decide. Almost no one can break my coding James, you know that. There were only five possibilities, all of which have no real care for infiltrating MI6. All of which would have more a desire to see me dead than to access state secrets. I had to run.” Q crossed the kitchen and very inelegantly slammed himself into Bond. They stayed like that with no further words, explanations, or excuses. 

When Q could no longer stand the hunger pains, he pulled himself from the warmth of Bond and trudged back to his cup of tea, which sat cold and defeated. Bond laughed from behind him. 

“Go get you computers Q, I’ll have food ready and spots at the table cleared away. We can figure out our next steps.” Bond left whatever metal bits he had been tinkering with lay strewn about the counter and set work making food. Q trudged away, debating whether to deal with the pain and have mental clarity or to take some more pain killers and just push through the mental fog. He got about a quarter of the way up the grand staircase before the raging pains in his leg and shoulder decided the answer for him. 

Luckily, the absurd amount of time it took Q to get cleaned up, dressed, and collect the necessayr equipment all while muddling through the aches and pains, was just right amount of time James Bond needed to throw together good Scottish breakfast. When Q finally got himself situated on the now barren end of the long oak table, he was all but ready to cast his laptop, tablet, phone, and over devices down onto the floor in favor of a plate filled high with whatever he could reach. 

There were few foods in the world that could convince Q to look away from whatever device or line of code he had his nose buried in; Pad Thai and James Bond’s cooking. Q was certain that Moneypenny had allocated just enough government funds to make sure the Pad Thai restaurant that sat just a block from the MI6 facility, was fully funded, stocked, and open 24/7, just so there’d be a quick option to ensure the Quartermaster’s daily food intake on his more longer mission benders. St. James’ Park may be the “official unofficial” meeting place of international agents but Kanlaya Thai was the “official unofficial” meeting place for MI6 and occasionally MI5 agents alike. 

The two sat and ate in content, Bond’s little project laid out on a tea towel beside and Q surrounded by laptops, phones, and tablets but with enough space to sit a plate directly in front of him. The silence was only broken by the occasional key tapping or beep but finally enough was enough for Q. 

“What is that?” Q looked past his food and gadgets. 

“The trigger, plate, and hammers to Kincade’s shotgun. Seems to have been damaged, figured I could try and repair it.” Bond looked hopefully at the pile of metal parts laying by his elbow. Q hummed back in response. Upon Kincade’s passing and funeral, Q and Bond found themselves standing in front the charred remains of Skyfall Lodge. That was when Q so expertly convinced James to return back to and had encourage the rebuild and renovations. The only thing now left it seemed to repair was Kincade’s old shotgun. And Q knew, though he was the weapons expert, that it was a job better left for Bond to complete. 

The rest of their day had passed like that, relative comfort and peace. They had moved Q’s setup into the study and Bond had switched to enjoying the vintage brandy which was stocked in there and buried himself in some book he pulled from the walls of books. Q dug and dug, through lines of code, through surveillance video rewound dozens of times, and through paths of digital tracing. He buried himself in it all, unrelenting and furious. Only the ping of James’ phone brought Q out from the undertow. 

“The funeral will be tomorrow.” Bond remarked then decidedly returned back to his book and glass of brandy. 

“You’ll have to go.” Q spoke up after a few minutes. “It’ll be expected of you to be there.” 

“No. We stay here.” Bond was firm in his reply. 

“I will stay but you must go.” 

“I will not leave you here by yourself. We’re not splitting up.” 

“James be reasonable. If the funeral is being watched and they have covert intelligence your absence will be a red flag.” Q stared the agent down. “You must go. Besides, I ‘ve been to four of yours now and the last time we faked my death we had made it to the outskirts of Russia before the funeral was held.” Q tried to lighten his tone a bit. “Quite rude you know, not attending my funeral. I forbid you to miss this one.” 

Bond chuckled. “It’s still a terrible idea. What if they’ve tracked me here, or you for that matter? If I leave and you’re attacked....” Bond didn’t finish that thought. “And you can’t be caught attending your own funeral.” 

“Do you honestly believe, after my renovations, that anyone at all can get into this estate without my knowledge? Come now James, I didn’t realize your opinion of me was so low.” Q said. 

“I would think you know my opinion of you dear Q.” Bond retorted. 

\--- 

The next morning Q woke up sore but in all right places and more than satiated. Leave it to James Bond to still have his way with Q despite the number and/or severity of injuries. Q had to admit though that it was a bit of a game changer being the injured one rather than Bond. Content and warm Q thought nothing of the empty bed until he stretched and her a rustle of paper beneath the sheets. 

It was note from Bond. 

_I’ve gone to the funeral. I suppose I really ought to pay my respects to you after all. Do not leave the house until I return. -J_

Q ran his thumb over the elegant scrawl and so cruelly thought that it was Bond’s turn to endure a bit of discomfort at the other’s funeral. He scoffed at the thought that Bond would even consider the possibility of Q venturing outside. A battery hot plate, kettle, tea, and coding were the order of the day. He’d hardly notice the passage of time once he’d settle himself in. 

And so, the morning passed easily enough, Q was pleased with himself with digging out the battery powered hot plate and keeping the kettle next to the comfy sofa, just in arm’s reach. 

He had several laptops set up around him all running different lines of code or search and recognition programs. He was able to trace the bombers tracks to about 2 hours prior entering the MI6 facility then he’s lost in a maze of alleyways weaving through the thick of London. Q made a mental note to contact his brother regarding the sad lack of CCTV cameras in and out of the seedier alleyways. 

On another screen he was running a back-trace on the lines of coding that had bypassed the weapons sensors he had installed in all the elevators and hallways. The bomb components should have set off even a silent alarm somewhere in Six, Q had installed so many contingencies in the security programs that even he could barely remember them all let alone understand how they could have been accounted for in the hack. 

Around late afternoon Q was so incensed with having not solved a single piece of any of it that he nearly threw his mug at the fireplace out of frustration. It was ridiculously complicated that whoever had done this was far beyond Q’s skills and even if Q were to be humble, he was still one of the best. There were none of the usual signatures in the coding if it were to be made of the handful of other that Q would even begin to consider his equals. There were no traces or trails or indicators that the breach in security had ever occurred outside of Six. 

Just then, Q grew still and quiet. He figured it out. He was looking for a far too complicated solution. He now knew how the security breach occurred, now he just needed to know who did it. Forgoing a fresh cup of tea, Q dived headfirst into the nearest laptop. 

\--- 

Bond stood over the casket with Moneypenny on his arm. She was crying, incessantly. If Bond looked as if he had steeled himself it was only to prevent any reaction to Eve’s ridiculous wails. Though no one beyond Eve and M suspect as much. Even Alec watched Bond nervously, waiting for the break, for a tear even. For any indication that once more he’s laid a piece of his heart down never to pick it back up again. Bond steadfastly refused to look anywhere but the casket, should he really betray his feelings of annoyance towards the funeral rather than actual grief. Q was not in that casket, Bond knew that, he still hated seeing the damned thing despite as much.

M gave the eulogy, Bond wondered if Olivia had delivered something so eloquent at his first funeral. Then Bond allowed himself to reflect on Olivia’s funeral. His face must have given that moment of grief away as he heard renewed sniffling about the crowd and Eve’s presence beside him was replaced by Alec’s. A strong hand clapped onto his shoulder and its weight was left there to rest. Bond nodded but still refused to look his friend in the eye. He supposed a reaction of such was enough to portray the part of a grieving lover. Or he hoped as much. Of course, he could convince any one of his marks of anything but grief was never a strong part of his acting repertoire. 

Bond was relieved when it was finally over. He beelined for his car parked at the top of the hill behind the cemetery and tore out of there without so much of a glance back. He weaved his way in and out of London traffic and settled himself into the long drive back to Skyfall Lodge. He watched and waited for any sign of a tail before dialing through the car’s phone. 

The other end rang through and when there was no answer Bond truly felt panic set in once more, just as it had when he was faced with a pile of rubble days ago. He called again and again, still no answer. He knew then, in his gut, that he was right. They should have never split up. Hours later when Bond pulled up to the front of the mansion, he noted the absence of the Jeep. Armed and on high alert he cleared his way through the mansion, every room and every hideaway hole. Q was gone with the Jeep. 

Bond cursed under his breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any typos guys!! Half the time I'm writing while I'm supposed to be technically working so it can be a bit rushed sometimes. The story kinda develops in my head then I switch between typing it out and doing my actual work so >.<


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